


These Little Things

by Deniera



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Fic Exchange, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Nightmares, Protectiveness, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deniera/pseuds/Deniera
Summary: [Prompt: Gladio is more than just the brawn of the group, he's practically Noct's personal pillow. Not that he minds, Noct is good at propping up his books. And some nights, when he feels Noct startle awake from a nightmare, he might just soothe his prince back to sleep by reading to him.]A series of vignettes through Noctis' young life and his blossoming relationship to Gladio.





	These Little Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aithilin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/gifts).



> Dear Aithilin, I hope you aren't too upset that I had to replace one of your desired tags (established relationship) and added some of my own. I tried to write this as one continuous scene set a little later in their life, but it all turned out as terrible garbage I wasn't satisfied with. This, in contrast, I'm very pleased with and I hope you'll like it as well. 
> 
> Thanks to my lovely beta, who will remain anonymous with me as long as the authors aren't revealed. Your input was much appreciated!

 

 

**11**

Noctis doesn’t like his tutor.

He’s an elderly man with a tightly-buttoned dark jacket of sorts, sharp eyes and a posture so rigid that it makes him look like he’d fall to the floor straight like a plank if someone pushed him. Noctis should know his name by now, but it’s something complicated with a lot of syllables, and honestly, he feels like his tongue twists into a knot every time he tries to pronounce it. He has sort of given up at his point. Given how frustrating that man is, he hasn’t really earned to have a name either, Noctis has decided.

The tutor teaches history and politics and diplomacy and Ignis sits with him every day. Noctis only occasionally joins them when there’s an essential lesson people decided he needs to learn, or when he needs help with his school subjects.

He doesn’t really understand most of the stuff the old man is talking about and he often feels like, especially with politics, he leaves these difficult lessons more confused than he’d entered them.

Ignis usually sits down with him to explain everything again after the tutor has left, using simple words and the soft voice Noctis is so fond of, the voice that reminds him of Cosmogony and star-gazing and cuddling in soft pajamas in his bed. Noctis always understands much more when he hears it from Ignis, and most of the things he can keep in mind easily.

But Ignis is not here today.

Noctis is trying to follow what he’s being taught, he really tries, but the topic is complicated once again and he’s tired after his day at school trying to avoid his classmates. The obvious distance all of them keep to him pushes all sorts of unpleasant feelings from his stomach through his whole body whenever he walks through the halls. Usually he tries to either stay at his desk, trying to ignore the rest of the classroom, or he tries to slip out and hide somewhere, telling himself it’s him who is seeking the distance, not the other way around.

He rubs his eyes, lids heavy, and almost misses the frown on his tutor’s face.

“Highness,” the old man says, “apologies, but are you listening?”

Noctis blushes and nods slowly, hoping to get away with it. He hasn’t understood most of today’s lesson anyway, so he hopes he’s not going to be asked to repeat anything.

“Sorry,” he mumbles for good measure.

The man nods and continues talking. Talking, talking and talking, occasionally pulling one of the heavy tomes on the desk nearby closer, reading a few lines and squinting through his glasses at Noct like a hawk.

Noctis glances carefully to the nearby clock and sits a little more upright when he realizes the lesson is almost over. There is not really a timetable, but the tutor, Noctis was told, works with allocated slots to maximize the learning outcome with the time they have – or something like that.

His attention jumps back when the old man noisily closes one of the heavy tomes. He watches Noctis, making him squirm in his chair a little bit, and Noct is short of getting nervous when he finally speaks.

“Would you please summarize today’s topics for me, Highness?”

Noctis freezes and swallows. His fingers clench around each other and he starts to bite at his lip.

Summarize.

Noctis can’t. He hasn’t paid attention to half of it, and the other half he doesn’t really understand. He licks his lips, working through his brain trying to remember keywords, or just anything that seems to be significant in today’s topic.

“Uh…” he says, “it was… about bills? And- and passing laws.”

The tutor squints over his glasses again, like he is waiting for something. Noctis starts squirming again until the old man sighs, sounding frustrated.

“Your Highness, with all due respect. The material I cover with you is going to be of utmost importance to you sooner rather than later - I remember your father taking on his first royal duties fairly young, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to disrespect him by not knowing anything about your kingdom.”

Noctis blushes furiously, biting down hard on his lip. The thought of his father makes it hard to breathe for a few seconds, guilt and shame weighing heavy in his stomach.

The tutor gives him a look again, and then hands him one of the thinner books from the desk. Thinner, but it’s heavy in Noctis’ hands nonetheless, and thicker still than most books he has ever read. The title reads _Autocracy to Constitution: The History of Lucian Monarchy_ and Noctis already knows that he won’t understand most of it. His hands clench around the back of the book and he tries to not show the old man how impossible reading it seems to Noctis.

“You ought to familiarize yourself with this.”

“Yes,” Noctis says quietly, a lump in his throat making it hard to talk.

The tutor nods with a small smile. “Until then, Your Highness,” he says and bows and Noctis bolts from his seat, hurrying to the door.

Out, out, he just wants out, and where’s Ignis? Why is Ignis not here to help him? He knows Noctis doesn’t understand this stuff, and it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose, he’s trying, really, but it’s so _boring_ and complicated and there’s so much of it, it seems like an impossible task to ever remember all the things his tutor wants him to know.

The lump in his throat grows bigger the quicker he walks through the Citadel’s halls and Noct keeps his head down. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, really, because most of the grown-ups make him feel like he feels right now, uncomfortable in his own skin, like it’s not fitting him properly.

A Crownsguard sees him coming closer and Noct has the feeling that he will start talking to him, and he steers off to the right through an open door, right outside into a part of the gardens. He stops in his steps.

He hadn’t realized he had walked that far through the Citadel.

Noctis swallows around the lump still in his throat when he sees Gladiolus sitting on a wide bench in the sun, reading a book.

They don’t talk much. Gladiolus often comes to the Citadel for his training, sometimes to spar with Ignis, and Noctis has seen him around occasionally after that. They only have trained together a few times by now. Gladiolus is fourteen and much bigger than Noctis. But right now he’s the only presence that doesn’t immediately seems like a threat to Noctis.

He slowly makes his way over, just stopping and fidgeting once when Gladiolus looks up at him with furrowed brows. He is _so big_ and looks so grown-up with his broad shoulders and his book that Noct is slightly intimidated. But, he thinks, if he sits with his future Shield, maybe people will think they have business with each other and won’t come over to bother him, so he slowly continues to walk closer.

Under Gladiolus’ watchful eye he slips onto the bench next to him and settles the tome on his lap, glancing over to the bigger boy shyly.

After a moment, Gladiolus simply lifts his own book back up and continues to read.

Noctis feels himself relax. This is good. He’s not forced to listen and he’s not forced to talk. He’s not asked any questions. The knot in his throat and the tightness in his chest slowly dissolve into blissful nothingness.

He tips his head up and leans back, the sun dancing lazy over his face through the leaves in the garden. He doesn’t feel himself drifting away into sleep, and he doesn’t realize that the pleasant warmth that is making him relax is Gladiolus’ arm which he has slumped against.

He doesn’t realize that the older boy is watching him with a surprised little smile.

 

 

**12**

The impact on his wooden sword makes Noctis tumble. His palms hurt from clenching so hard around the handle, from trying not to lose it while his instructor, a stern looking woman, strikes for hit after hit.

The prop in his hand vibrates from the force she puts in and Noctis can’t help but make high little sounds each time she crashes down on him. She’s so fast that he doesn’t really know where to go, and the warping never goes right, not in situations like this when his concentration is elsewhere.

Just a blink and the sword flies out of his hands, his back hitting the floor in a painful angle.

His breath is momentarily pushed out of his lungs and he numbly stares at the tall ceilings of the training hall. He’s happy Gladiolus isn’t here to see him.

A callused hand is extended to him as the woman offers to help him up. She’s still got the stern expression on her face, but she hasn’t shouted at him. She looks vaguely familiar and Noctis has the sinking feeling that he should know her, but there are always so many people around in the Citadel, and so many of the Crownsguard look so similar to each other, that he cannot pinpoint where he might have seen her before.

He grabs her hand and is hoisted up so quick that he stumbles again, little black and white dots dancing in front of his eyes.

“I thought Clarus’ boy is teaching you,” she says. It’s not a question, and Noctis suddenly burns with anger.

“He is,” he says, yanking his hand out of hers.

She seems unimpressed, looking down on him with a line around her mouth Noct can’t read.

“He’s a bad teacher then? You haven’t made much progress.”

Noctis bites his lips, glaring at her, too afraid of her towering over him to say something. “That’s not his fault,” he mumbles finally.

Her eyebrow jumps. “Oh?” She walks over to where Noctis’ wooden sword lies forgotten on the floor and kicks it over to him. “His Highness is not committed to combat then? You don’t like it?”

He stares at the training prop for a moment before he bends down to pick it up. No, he’s not enjoying the training. He’s tired all the time, and he messes up a lot. Gladiolus had been frustrated with him before Noct had gotten Iris out of trouble for getting lost in the gardens, but even now, after the sessions with him feel more relaxed, he still sees how bad he is with the training.

Gladiolus is trying to teach him, and to spar with him, because they are the prince and the shield, they are supposed to be a team on the battlefield, but something is somehow always going wrong. He stumbles, he messes up his warps, he runs into Gladiolus sword, his hits against the wooden training shield aren’t hard enough, he trips over his own feet.

It’s just not working.

Sighing, he shakes his head in answer to her.

She watches him for a moment, and then huffs, looking away. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I’m afraid that’s not something you can just skip.”

Yes, he knows that. One day, he will have to wear the Ring on his father’s hand. One day, he will have to wield the armiger that slaughtered the Naga slashing his back open.

He shrugs, unsure what to say.

“Right,” she says, blowing out some of her breath. “What’s your favorite part of training? There have to be things you dislike the least.”

Noctis thinks for a moment.  

“Falling exercises,” he says. “And defense.”

Her eyebrows jump up again, but she says nothing, instead coming over to him to take the sword out of his hand. She walks to the edge of the hall, dropping both of their weapons to the ground, and then comes back, rubbing her hands.

“Okay then, Highness. Time to get defensive.” She lunges at him and her hand just stops right in front of his face.

Noctis has been too surprised in her sudden attack to react appropriately, and if she wouldn’t have stopped, she would have slapped him, probably with a good amount of force. But there her hand is, hovering right in front of his face, all the ridges and lines and little scars on her palm visible for him to see. He swallows.

“Are you ready, Highness?”

Noctis licks his lips and nods, and he thinks he sees a small smile on her face. He isn’t quite sure though, because the next second he drifts out of her range as she lunges at him again.

He doesn’t know why, but whenever there isn’t a weapon involved, even a simple prop that can’t hurt him seriously, everything seems to go more smoothly. He’s more concentrated on falling correctly, distributing his weight properly and protecting his head from hitting the ground, and the little jumps and tricks Ignis has shown him are actually sort of fun.

Even the warping works this way. Longer distances are always giving him trouble, he can never concentrate quite enough to focus on one spot where he wants to be, and if it finally works he stumbles and falls most of the time, disoriented and slightly nauseous.

But just little steps, back or to the side, that’s been working better and better.

Noctis dances around her punches, doing little somersaults that have her grinning and jumping after him, and he doesn’t even realize how suddenly a whole hour has gone by and Gladiolus stands in the door of the training grounds, watching them with careful curiosity.

Noctis is sweaty and just far enough away from her that he can allow himself the small distraction of looking at the older boy.

The woman, hair a little more unruly than at the begin of their session, slows her steps down and looks to the door as well. She has a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and Noctis is oddly proud that he was able to make it exhausting for her, too.

“Gladiolus,” she nods in greeting, and then turns back to Noct.

He sees Gladiolus coming closer, not bothering to go to the changing rooms first, and then the woman is bowing her head lightly in front of him and he has to switch his attention.

“Your Highness. I hope you found today equally enjoyable and instructive.”

He nods with a small smile. “Thank you.” He’s still out of breath, but today, it’s a good feeling. She bows again and then winks at him before she makes her way to leave the training grounds.

For a moment, everything is silent besides his quick breath and Gladiolus’ shoes on the floor as he comes closer and takes a good look at Noctis.

“Guess you’re done with training today.” He sounds upset and Noctis furrows his brows.

“I- I could do more.”

Gladiolus clicks his tongue. “Nonsense. No point in doing somethin’ now when you’re all tired out.”

Noctis chews on his lips for a moment. He didn’t mean to upset Gladiolus. He doesn’t like it.

Gladiolus is about to turn away from him, and maybe he panics a little, because without thinking he blurts out, “We can do something else instead.”

That gets him some attention, and Noctis immediately blushes because he has no idea what they could actually do. He doesn’t really know what Gladiolus is interested in. Somehow Noctis has the feeling that he telling the older boy about his new games is not going to be very impressive.

He scouts the area and his eyes fall on the heavy schoolbag just next to the doors where Gladiolus had stood just a minute before.

“What are you reading?” he asks, because the colorful book on top of the bag is the only thing that gives him a loose idea what they could talk about.

Noctis isn’t a fan of reading, because books have started to become synonym for _tomes too difficult to understand_ , but maybe Gladiolus is like Ignis and likes reading about history and stuff. Maybe he’s good at explaining, too. Noctis doesn’t mind listening.

Gladiolus seems to hesitate for a second, and then he nods towards his bag and his book. “Wanna see?”

Noctis nods and follows him, sitting down closer to Gladiolus than perhaps necessary on the steps of the training area, leaning against his big arm to see the written lines inside the book.

He was wrong. It’s some type of novel, not a history book, but it honestly doesn’t sound that much more interesting.

Gladiolus seems reserved at first when he explains the plot to him, but the more Noctis listens, the more he seems to relax, and his voice adopts a lively and animated quality Noctis hasn’t heard on him before.

He’s still sweaty from the training and is soon sent to the showers and to change, but when Gladiolus promises they can meet up in the gardens later to read some more together, Noctis fails to be disappointed.

**15**

Noctis stifles a yawn while he lounges comfortably against Gladio, listening to Ignis trying to explain him some _crucial part of your ancestry, Noct!_ while Gladio snickers every now and then just loud enough that Noctis can hear him. There’s the edge of a book he can feel digging just lightly into his back, but it’s not too bothersome to move just yet. And with Noct invading about half of Gladio’s private space, there aren’t many places to put his reading anyway.

The older boy has grown even taller in the recent years, and whenever Noctis thinks he’s finally had a growth spurt, both Gladio and Ignis miraculously seem to have grown as well. Noctis has been and probably will always be the smallest of them, and he’s decently offended by that fact. Shouldn’t the future king have a kingly figure? Like, regal and tall and all of that?

Noctis huffs. At the moment, thought, he can’t be too mad about it, because Gladio’s meaty bulk means he basically has a walking, talking pillow, which also provides a good amount of heat.

And also, now he knows Prompto, and Noct is convinced that he is just a tiny bit taller than his new friend. Small victories.

He’s excited to introduce him to Gladio and Ignis, because finally, there’s someone to share his favorite past times with without reminding him that he still has this to do and that to read, and who laughs about all of Noct’s hilarious jokes.

Gladio pinches him softly in the side, the outlines of the tattoo he started to get recently just peeking out from under his shirt, and Noct’s attention jumps back to the here and now.

Ignis is watching him, very stern, very serious, but with too young a face to pull the  look off completely. Noct has the distinct feeling that he’s expected to say something.

“Lady Ophelia,” Gladio whispers to him under his breath, and Noct opens his mouth, about to repeat it without thinking twice.

Ignis' glance jumps over to Gladio. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that.” He sighs very dramatically and makes a point to rub his temples. “Shall we go over it again, then?”

Noctis smiles at him, and when Ignis smiles back, tired but nonetheless, he knows he’s not _really_ upset. All three of them enjoy these times together, at least that’s what Noctis hopes.

And, who knows, maybe soon they will be four.

 

 

**16**

Noctis is sweating when he jerks awake.

The air in his apartment is heavy with heat and his chest heaves with the trouble to breathe. He turns left and right in a frenzy, not knowing what time it is, and what is happening. His whole body is shivering with the remaining panic from his nightmare and he doesn’t… he doesn’t know.

His hand clenches around the fabric of his soaked sleep shirt on his chest and he hunches over, trying to level his breath, trying to get a grip on himself. He got this.

There’s movement next to him and his eyes skirt over. When he sees Gladio blinking awake next to him, moving his impressive silhouette up and out of the sheets, he feels himself calm down a bit. Gladio is here. Everything is alright, if it wasn’t, his Shield wouldn’t be so calm.

Gladio blinks at him with small eyes, his hair a wild nest on his head. “Whahapun?” he mumbles. He looks like an undignified owl and Noct can’t help but give him a weak smile.

Gladio’s hand finds its way to Noct’s back, touching the damp shirt and it’s like Gladio knows exactly what to do with him. Noctis feels disgusting but he’s still pulled close against Gladio’s side.

He feels good under Noct. With nineteen, Gladio’s body is well-defined, broad, hard muscle and strong limbs that are ready to protect Noct any minute. And of course Gladio takes pride in his body. Of course, he’s sleeping without a shirt in Noct’s bed.

It’s nice, Noctis has to admit. Gladio’s skin is soft and warm under his fingers and when Noctis pushes his face into the right spot in Gladio’s neck, he can feel – he can hear his heartbeat. It’s oddly calming, and he can feel how the panic from his dream slowly ebbs out of him.

“You okay?” Gladio mumbles against his hair.

Noctis nods and sighs. This is nice. It hasn’t been that long since they started ‘seeing’ each other – just a few weeks, and it was a bit weird at first, but this, Noctis already is getting used to. It’s nice to have someone next to him when he falls asleep. Or, under him, in their case, since Noct has developed a habit to fall asleep on top of his big boyfriend.

He can’t help it, Gladio is just too comfortable.

Grumbling, he pushes away at last.

“Need’a change,” he mumbles and makes to climb out of bed. His shirt is clinging to his body and Noctis doesn’t think he’ll be able to get back to sleep feeling this sticky and hot.

He yanks his shirt from his body, and stumbles into the bathroom to quickly wipe himself down with a towel. No way he’ll shower in the middle of the night, and if Gladio has no problem touching his sweaty back, he’ll have no problem with him being a little smelly either.

Or so Noctis hopes.

When he comes back, he pulls the first shirt he touches from his closet and throws it on. Gladio is waiting for him on the bed, propped up on some cushions and smiling and him. He looks tired and Noct feels a little bad for waking him up.

“All done?” Gladio says when Noct crawls back to him on the bed and slips under the covers. He throws a leg over Gladio’s lap, coming to rest on his naked chest while one of Gladio’s arm sneaks around his back to hold him.

It’s nice.

The steady heartbeat is back on Noctis ear and he closes his eyes with a sigh. He’s safe. No need to worry.

Still, he can’t shake the disturbed feeling from him completely. He has already forgotten what his nightmare was about, but the distinct feelings of being helpless, scared, alone, of losing something significant is still clinging to him and keeping him from relaxing completely.

His breath hitches in his throat when he remembers not being able to see, stumbling after something, trying to reach it because it’s _important_ , he can’t _lose_ it-

“Hey,” Gladio mumbles into his hair and pulls him just a little closer. “You’re all tense.”

Noct swallows hard and exhales into Gladio’s skin. He swallows again.

He should be better at this.

Dealing with nightmares is nothing new to him, he’s been doing it for years, and after Ignis got too big to sleep with him at night, he had to learn how to deal with them himself. Or, at least try to do it alone. It’s only been such a short time, but Noct has already forgotten most of the stuff he used to do when he would wake up alone since Gladio started to stay over for the night.

“Read to me?” he says quietly. He’s never seen Gladio not carrying a book around with him, as weird as that habit had seemed to Noct just a few years back.

Gladio doesn’t answer him, but he shuffles around a bit, keeping Noct close as he leans over to the nightstand to pick up some old-looking hardcover he brought with him today.

He leans back, shuffling down in the cushions a bit to get comfortable, and then rests the book on the arm Noct has placed over his chest.

“You’re a good book stand,” Gladio mumbles and Noct huffs out a tired laugh.

“You make the best compliments, big guy,” he says and enjoys how Gladio’s chest expands with an exasperated sigh.

“You all comfy in your ridiculous shirt?”

Noct peers down on himself to see the vague shape of a huge moogle on washed-out yellow fabric. It’s one of Prompto’s old tops that has somehow found its way into his closet.

He nods and rubs his face over one naked pectoral.

Gladio starts reading in a low voice, rumbling through his chest right into Noctis, vibrating in him in a duet with his heartbeat and Noct drifts off almost immediately.

He thinks he hears some details about whatever story Gladio is reading to him, something of a Lysis, poets, fathers and some dialogue that sounds too stilted for him to fully comprehend. But Gladio is holding him and his voice is so nice and calming that sleep comes suddenly quick.

**19**

His whole body hurts.

Or, no. Hurts is the wrong word. He’s _sore_ , that’s it.                                                            

Noctis moans and moves just slightly under the covers, dragging his limbs carefully to avoid pain this early in the morning. His legs hurt like he stretched them too much without a proper warm-up, the skin around his neck and shoulder is tight and _thumb-thumbs_ with numb pain.

He moves his hips slightly and hisses, staying still again.

A dark chuckle floats through the room and he pulls the covers down just enough so he can glare at a half-naked Gladio, clad only in his dark, tight boxer briefs that are entirely too suggestive for Noct’s poor, tortured body. He has a cup in his hands and is propped up on the door frame, brimming with energy, the lines of his finally-complete tattoo stretching all over his upper body.

He looks delicious.

Noctis squints up at him, deeply offended. “Why do you look so fresh?”

Gladio barks a laugh and comes closer, slowly. “Would you like a potion, princess?” he teases.

Noct groans and pulls the covers up over his head. He continues to groan pettily and he hears Gladio shuffling around. The mattress dips low where he sits down, and a turquoise phial is pushed under the covers directly into Noct’s face, like a peace offering. He takes it and, not bothering to open it, smashes it in his hand, a pleasant surge of cool energy splashing through him.

He sighs, and emerges from the covers again.

Gladio grins at him, taking a sip of whatever it is he has in his cup. “Better?”

Noct nods, still feeling a bit tender around his neck. “You better go and get an energy drink later to resupply the stash. Iggy is checking in tomorrow, I think.”

Gladio lifts an eyebrow. “Why should I? You’re the one who used it.”

Noct glares at him again. “Because _you_ are the reason I had to. If you hadn’t gone to town on me like this last night I would’a been fine without it.”

That earns him a laugh, and Gladio leans forward to press a kiss to Noct’s forehead. His breath smells like coffee.

“Guess I’ll better go then. Want me to pick up some food as well?”

Sighing, Noct sits up some more. The sheets pool around his naked hips and he catches the sight of himself in the mirror. Several dark spots adorn the skin around his throat, some down on his chest, and there is a prominent bite mark on his shoulder.

He blushes a bit, wondering how it had looked _before_ he had taken the potion.

“Hey,” Gladio calls him back to attention, looking down on him with a smile while he pulls a sweater over his head. There’s a purple mark on his neck, too, and Noct can’t help but bite his lips in pleasure thinking back to how he had given it to Gladio the night before.

There’s a silence for a moment. Noctis has to remember what he was asked and then smiles back. “Yeah, bring some.”

“Aight.” The clink of Gladio’s belt is loud in the quiet room, and then he leans forward, one hand cupping Noct’s face, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “Go back to sleep, Princess. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Noctis remains sitting like that, naked and covered in bruises in his bed, watching Gladio walk out of the apartment. He sighs, deep and satisfied. They’ve become domestic over the years, and he loves it. Gladio, although technically having his private rooms in the Citadel, more or less lives here with Noct most of the time.

They go to bed together, and they wake up together (well, on occasion), they share their meals and the time with their friends. It’s so simple and peaceful and normal that Noct sometimes has trouble to breathe thinking about how happy he is like this.

He’s only nineteen, the age Gladio was when they had started dating, but Noct’s pretty sure he could easily spend his whole life with him. He’s aware that would be complicated, with the whole thing with heirs and blood lines and all that crap, but also, they have each other and Ignis and Prompto. Ignis knows his way around both the modern and the traditional laws, and Noct is positive that there has to be a loophole somewhere.

Ignis is going to find it, for sure.

He flops back into the bed, grimacing when he feels a large, crusty spot on the sheets that definitely had not been there before yesterday night.

 

 

**20**

Noct always takes his time waking up, especially when there is no one to get him out of bed.

He spends his sweet time in the half-asleep state he likes so much, part of his mind still in the middle of a dream, the other dimly aware of the sensations on his skin, the warmth of a body under him, something hard pushing into his biceps. It’s just on the edge of being unpleasant, enough to finally coax him out of his sleep after flowing in the nimbus for minutes or hours – there’s no feeling for time when he is like this.

A huff, a sigh, and slowly Noct blinks awake, squinting his eyes against the too-bright morning light coming in from the tall windows. The hard thing bothering him, he realizes, is the edge of a book, propped up on him by Gladio, who in turn serves as substitute pillow for Noct. Nothing new, then.

He closes his eyes again and snuggles back into the broad chest under him. Gladio’s breath is tickling some hairs on his forehead, and the thumb of the hand not holding the book is drawing lazy circles on his hip. Noct smiles. He loves mornings like these.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Following is the lovely artwork that inspired the scene at age 19, by whipbogard.tumblr.com (Permission to use was granted by artist)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think <3
> 
>   
> 
> 
>  


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